getting soaked or leaving gaps that the rain and sleet could penetrate leading to frostbite of a very personal variety .
Teetering on its stand , I also had to keep an eye on the bike despite the limited vision , my helmet remained on to keep the sleet out . It was a difficult procedure , but I had to repeat it many times . Bit of a pisser , you could say .
Despite the challenges I managed to make it over both the Tizi- Tiherhouzine and the Plateau des Lacs . Then coming down , out of the high-altitude wilderness , past snow-capped mesas like something from the Arizona desert , was truly surreal . Then the surreal took a turn , a bedraggled man dressed in full length jellabiya with a slightly medieval monkish hood , at a crossroads literally in the middle of nowhere .
My Arabic was not good enough to enquire “ what the fuck ” was he doing there in the middle of a sleet-storm , up in some of Africa ’ s highest mountains , about 35kms from the nearest town , though I did get the message that he would really appreciate a lift .
There was no problem with him climbing on the back of the bike however , he didn ’ t seem happy about putting his feet on the pillion pegs ; they just hung like a child riding horsey style .
The consequent lack of passenger stability , the howling wind , his wildly flapping jellabiya , and the rutted road all combined to give us an interesting ride to Imchil . Boy did we wobble .
As we descended , and the visibility improved , I could see how dramatically the terrain had changed . Going from Tougedite the road up to the passes was mostly alpine ; all fir trees , hairpin bends , steep craggy valleys and rushing rivers . Once over the top the scenery changed , the desert took over .
The terrain turned into massive
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